I remember everything about the night Randall left. Every single detail. He had told me was just going out for a run and two weeks later, he was still gone. I knew by his demeanor something was going on, that something was happening. He usually didn’t go running on a Saturday afternoon, much less after he had already worked out.
I had known for a while our relationship was on the rocks and I have become happier without him here. In the meantime, I knew I would be able to do everything I wanted without Randall looking over my shoulder. Sighing over my shoulder. Hinting he was not happy.
I just needed to get up the nerve to drop the box of clothes off at his apartment. I was torn between wanting to see how horribly he was fairing without me and trying to keep myself from jumping back into his life.
When I finally got the nerve to take his box by, I rejoiced in the fact he hadn’t mowed in his lawn in the two weeks since he had left. I didn’t start to panic until I saw his garage door open and he was sitting on the ground. Randall was fastidious about what he was wearing, that I rushed toward him, to see how fair he was doing.
I found Randall alert and I knew something happened. There was alarming amount of dirt and grease on his clothes and as I grabbed his arm, he started screaming.